Zambia: Visiting ‘home-home’

Background: Join me for the next few weeks as I share retrospectively this most recent adventure.. to Zambia!!!!!


As I scrolled through the on-board ‘easy-listening’ music section, I came across a song from the archives of my primary schools music rooms called “morning has broken.” Rather than send me to sleep, as I presume was the intention of this mix, it suddenly woke up my mind.

This unexpected memory conjured up lots of mixed emotions all at once; some happy, some sad. While the memory of this song took me to a very ‘happy place’ in my life, sat down singing along to Mr Banda (my music teacher) tinkering away on the keys, I was also reminded of the harsh reality of going back home. The thought that certain loved ones were now no more. Certain people from that ‘happy place’ I would never see again.

See, I was on my way home, or ‘home-home’ as I’ve come to know it. The place of my birth, home to my ancestors, where most of my loved ones live, you get the picture. It had been a good few years since I last visited and so much had changed since then. I was eagerly anticipating many reunions, picturing the warm embrace of friends and family, reuniting with roasted maize from the roadside, etc. But this lingering thought and reality check suddenly buried all my warm, happy thoughts. It was the sudden death of my beautiful and bright young cousin, Towela, at 32 which particularly shook me and reminded me of the uncertainty of life (see Words I Never Said: Short Poem).

While thinking of this, my mind wondered back to my primary school, this time remembering all my friends. How many would I be able to see during this trip? It had been at least 5 years since I last saw some, but 14 for the majority. How would we even relate to each other as grown ups? Would we slip back into old friendships? All these questions and more ran through my mind. No doubt social media had helped lessen the impending shock at seeing people after so long, beards and all.

All in all, its safe to say I was super excited and buzzing at the prospect of going home. There I was smiling to myself, eyes shut, head phones on, simply wishing the pilot could speed up.


Such is the power of thought trails.

Let them run their course as you jot them down and see where they’ll take you. This post was born out of the song ‘morning has broken’ which immediately had me grinning at its memory.